


on the seventh day

by Bushwah



Series: we the clay [7]
Category: Fake AH Crew (Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cults, Alternate Universe - Grand Theft Auto Setting, D/s, Daddy Kink, Dehumanization, Dollification, Domestic Violence, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Female Jack Pattillo, Forced Bonding, Gaslighting, Grooming, Immortal Fake AH Crew, Insomnia, M/M, Medical Abuse, Multi, Non-Consensual Touching, Pet Names, Praise Kink, Sex Work, Sleep Deprivation, Trans Female Jack Pattillo, Unhealthy Relationships, abusive found family, non-consensual domesticity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:27:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22992448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bushwah/pseuds/Bushwah
Summary: Jack likes to make time for Michael at least once a week.
Relationships: Gavin Free/Michael Jones, Michael Jones/Jack Pattillo
Series: we the clay [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1643119
Comments: 1
Kudos: 19





	on the seventh day

**Author's Note:**

> This is an FPF fic based exclusively on the Fake AH Crew lore as set forth by Rooster Teeth Productions. This work owes an additional debt of thanks to Wren wrenseroticlibrary.tumblr.com and their collab partner Threatie alastair-made-me-undo-it.tumblr.com, posting collaboratively as Wrespawn on the AO3, for their contributions to the FAHC fandom.
> 
> All major characters in this series are abusive, in that they use abuse tactics in conducting their relationships. However, the degree of trauma they inflict depends on a variety of factors, within and outside their control. Abusive acts committed from a position of extreme power, such as Jack's control over the respawn machine (regarding the crew) or the other Fakes' access to it (regarding outsiders), are both particularly damaging and particularly unjustifiable.

Jack snags Michael as he's returning to his room after a meal. It's 3pm. She's pretty sure he doesn't know that.

“Are you busy, honey?” she asks. He stops walking and stares into the distance for a couple seconds, buffering, before he shakes his head and turns to her.

She might as well have a little fun with him. Besides, it's useful information. “What time is it?”

His eyes slide off her again. “Six?” he guesses.

“AM or PM?”

“Don't know.”

She purrs with satisfaction, not bothering to more than thinly disguise it as concern. “It's three PM, Wednesday,” she says. “When did you wake up this morning, honey?”

Michael's brow furrows. God, he's cute. “I... didn't. Have to. I was already.”

This time she puts more of an effort into it. “Already awake? You stayed up all night, honey? Were you working on something?” She knows he wasn't, but she wants to hear it from him.

“Just... wasn't tired.” He gropes for the wall next to him, leans on it. She thinks he's trying to be inconspicuous about it. He's adorable.

“Okay, that's okay.” He's lying, but she'll allow it. “You look kinda tired now, though.”

“Y-yeah. I guess.”

She reaches for his hand, asking with her eyes, and he doesn't respond—doesn't seem to register that there's a question. Perfect. She takes it, tugs a little. Coaxes him away from the wall. A full three seconds after the initial touch, he flinches.

“Let's get you to bed, yeah?”

She can read in his eyes how badly he wants to say _no_. He doesn't. He squeezes her hand as if just now noticing he's holding it and mutters, “Sure. Yeah.”

She leads him to his room and lays him out on the bed. He's oddly still, as if she could leave him somewhere and he would exist in perpetual stasis until she came back for him. She pushes his shoulder playfully, rocking him, and he looks at her, some life returning to his limbs.

“What do you remember of last night?” she asks.

“Last night?” he parrots.

“You weren't sleeping, you said that. What _were_ you doing?”

“Gavin wasn't there.” He closes his eyes, but she can tell he isn't falling asleep yet. He's _obeying_ , and she puts her arm over him possessively. “I... stayed awake.”

“Yes, you said you weren't tired,” she says, just to see him flinch.

“No, I... didn't want to.” He opens his eyes, blinks, squeezes them shut and lets them fall open again. “Gavin was...”

She lets her other hand wander up his side, ending up under his shoulder. “Aww, you didn't want to sleep alone?”

“Yeah! That.”

She kneads her fingers into his upper back, ignoring his hiss of pain. “Why didn't you come to me?”

His brow furrows. “I... don't know.”

Jack hums noncommittally. “Well, I'm here now.”

Michael smiles softly. “I'm glad,” he offers.

“Mm, is that so?” She feels out the shape of his collarbone, traces in from the outer edge of his rib. There's a minute trembling in his chest, nigh undetectable by sight but trivially obvious by touch. “How are things going with Gavin?”

His hands come up as if making to protect his face, then fall back down by his sides. She presses the palm of her hand into his chest, a little reward. God, he's so responsive like this.

“That good, huh?”

Michael laughs, a little, out of breath. “Y-yeah, he—he's been busy,” he says with barely disguised bitterness. “Says he's gotta stay on Daddy's good side.”

Jack nods. “It can be hard to feel like you're growing apart from a friend.”

“Yeah.” Michael looks away. “Or like a friend is growing apart from you.”

“The right people make time for you.” She strokes his cheek tenderly. “If it's meant to happen, it'll happen.”

“If it's meant to happen,” he echoes.

“But I'm sure it's too soon to be making assumptions. I mean, it's just work. You're still his partner.”

Michael looks at her. Jack can see the gears turning in his little brain. “Is it, though?” He fists his hand in her shirt, constraint, and she obligingly scoots closer. “I know it was. But now...”

“How would it not just be work?”

“He... he seems so happy. All the time.”

“Hmm, do you not want him to be happy?” Michael flinches, and she smiles. “Would you rather he—”

“No!” he says, too loud, and she stops, still smiling. “No, I—it's okay, he's allowed to be happy. I wish, I wish he was... happy with me. That's all.”

“He is,” Jack says, perfectly sincere. “He loves you, you know that. He's always talking about how you...” She trails off.

“How I _what_?”

Jack takes a moment to take apart the truth and put it back together so it sounds like a lie. “How he loves you. How you work well together. How you're a team, Mikey.”

The first time she'd called him that, he'd punched her. Now, it elicits only a brief wince. She notes with satisfaction that he doesn't consider it worth commenting on.

“Yeah, right. All we ever do is argue.”

She can see that he wants her to convince him otherwise, so she doesn't. “Yes, but that's just how he shows love. Didn't you say he's always been like that?” A lie, but she's pretty sure from certain things Michael has said that he's thought it, and the full-body shudder that goes through him confirms she's struck a nerve.

“Fuck, I... I didn't mean it like that, he's okay. He loves me,” Michael says, as if expecting her to disagree. “And I love him. We'll get through it. We'll be fine.”

Jack hums, shrugs, drops it. “This feel good?” she asks casually.

Michael, reminded he exists as a corporeal entity, tenses up in all the places she hasn't gotten to. “Mn?”

She runs her hand all the way down his side, fascinated by the dip her touch makes in the pattern of his shivering. “I asked, does this feel good?”

He pauses, buffering again. She keeps petting him. Long seconds later, she hears a quiet “Yeah.”

“Honey, that's so _good_ ,” she says, and he shudders in her arms.

**Author's Note:**

> Exodus 23:12.


End file.
